Something has gone horribly wrong. Margot has escaped and Lucy is nowhere to be found. Toast. Icecream. Chocolate. Toast. Cereal. Sandwich. Toilet. This is what Margot does. This is what she always does. Hairband. Water. Fingers. Further just a little further, oh no no wait until you gag. This is dangerous. This could become as easy as eating. You smile and you laugh when the sicky chocolate tinges and taints the tastebuds of your mouth once more. Just a little more. Wash the fingers, try again. You can reach the toast. The toast needs to come out. Haha look what you can do, you are so proud. You smile and you cry with pain and with pleasure. Margot has got out, Margot's running about and she wont stop, until you pop, and the fatty insides come out.
You have to get out. Something compels you to run. To the swings, to Newcastle, to London. That's right - drown yourself in the city like sweet Thérèse. Run from the shops, and the restaurants, and the icecream van, and the newsagents, and Marks and Spencer. Especially Mark and Spencer. Keep running, you can do it, you can find Lucy. She is still in the city. Hunt harder, faster, she's hiding from you because she is tired. She doesn't realise you need her. Look in the dark corners. You will find her innocent smile and delicate hands to help her up. Oh no. oh no oh no oh no oh no. Oh no. No no no no no. Not Mcdonals. There is nothing nourishing about strawberry milkshake made from icecream. 420 Kcalories. 420 Kcalories further away from the stripy Reiss jeans. You don't need it. You don't want it. Get away from the coun.... no no no stop talking. Oh shit. Fuck shit fuck. Why are you drinking the creamy concoction? Yum. Oh I forgot how yum this was. Shit fuck shit fuck stop stop stop STOP. It is ok really, you haven't eaten all day. What are you talking about? You are growing at the seams by the second!! Ok. Leave. Run far into the distance and find the swings. Get away from the food. What. WHAT are you doing? Another one... are you KIDDING me? 840. 840. 840. Oh my lord where is the stop button. I want to rewind. Rewind! Stop stop stop. Oh god. Now you are going to cry. What a twat. What a fat fucking twat. All you had to do was walk past like you did every other store and 1lb thinner you would have been tomorrow. You would have smiled. You would have found Lucy. But no. Appears you are too stupid for that. You don't deserve to cry. You have no one to blame but yourself. It is always only your fault. I fucking hate Margot. Hairband. Water. Fingers. Hurry! 30 Minutes or all is lost. Blood. Tears. Temporary relief. Make a plan to refind Lucy and fall to sleep. Everything will be fine, you'll find her soon. She is never very far away.
At the Feathers Margot cant find you. The bolted fences spring up from the ground and stop all access. You are safe now to walk and work and walk and work and walk and work. No thinking. You don't even want to eat! Yes!!! Yipeeee! No, that's right, you're NOT hungry!! Has 10 hours really gone already? Oh shit mum's car is here... Dash to the car, do not talk, run upstairs, go to sleep. No water. It is too dangerous to think about the kitchen. Oh no. A trampled snicker's wrapper is on the ground. Margot is making her move. Stop thinking. Stop thinking. You can do it. You are not hungry, you say. Your stomach does not in any way desire to be filled. Well, maybe one digestive. How harmful is 80kcalories? That's nothing really. Only the same as an apple. NO! Bed. bed. bed. RAISE THE ALARM!! Get into bed... No mummy I don't want to chat downstairs on the sofa, 3 steps from the kitchen where the biscuit tin is rattling it's contents at me. I can't hear you. La la la laaaa la. La la la laaaaaaaa la. What am I doing tomorrow? 'He wants to die in a lake at Geneva' la la la laaaaaaaaaaaaa la. 11.30. Witching hour. It is almost a fresh day. BUT YOU HAVE GOT SO FAR! You almost have Lucy! 30 minutes and the slate is wiped clean of all calorie calculations. You can eat now. NO YOU CANNNNNNNT!
Please help me find Lucy. Margot is making me sad.
You have to get out. Something compels you to run. To the swings, to Newcastle, to London. That's right - drown yourself in the city like sweet Thérèse. Run from the shops, and the restaurants, and the icecream van, and the newsagents, and Marks and Spencer. Especially Mark and Spencer. Keep running, you can do it, you can find Lucy. She is still in the city. Hunt harder, faster, she's hiding from you because she is tired. She doesn't realise you need her. Look in the dark corners. You will find her innocent smile and delicate hands to help her up. Oh no. oh no oh no oh no oh no. Oh no. No no no no no. Not Mcdonals. There is nothing nourishing about strawberry milkshake made from icecream. 420 Kcalories. 420 Kcalories further away from the stripy Reiss jeans. You don't need it. You don't want it. Get away from the coun.... no no no stop talking. Oh shit. Fuck shit fuck. Why are you drinking the creamy concoction? Yum. Oh I forgot how yum this was. Shit fuck shit fuck stop stop stop STOP. It is ok really, you haven't eaten all day. What are you talking about? You are growing at the seams by the second!! Ok. Leave. Run far into the distance and find the swings. Get away from the food. What. WHAT are you doing? Another one... are you KIDDING me? 840. 840. 840. Oh my lord where is the stop button. I want to rewind. Rewind! Stop stop stop. Oh god. Now you are going to cry. What a twat. What a fat fucking twat. All you had to do was walk past like you did every other store and 1lb thinner you would have been tomorrow. You would have smiled. You would have found Lucy. But no. Appears you are too stupid for that. You don't deserve to cry. You have no one to blame but yourself. It is always only your fault. I fucking hate Margot. Hairband. Water. Fingers. Hurry! 30 Minutes or all is lost. Blood. Tears. Temporary relief. Make a plan to refind Lucy and fall to sleep. Everything will be fine, you'll find her soon. She is never very far away.
At the Feathers Margot cant find you. The bolted fences spring up from the ground and stop all access. You are safe now to walk and work and walk and work and walk and work. No thinking. You don't even want to eat! Yes!!! Yipeeee! No, that's right, you're NOT hungry!! Has 10 hours really gone already? Oh shit mum's car is here... Dash to the car, do not talk, run upstairs, go to sleep. No water. It is too dangerous to think about the kitchen. Oh no. A trampled snicker's wrapper is on the ground. Margot is making her move. Stop thinking. Stop thinking. You can do it. You are not hungry, you say. Your stomach does not in any way desire to be filled. Well, maybe one digestive. How harmful is 80kcalories? That's nothing really. Only the same as an apple. NO! Bed. bed. bed. RAISE THE ALARM!! Get into bed... No mummy I don't want to chat downstairs on the sofa, 3 steps from the kitchen where the biscuit tin is rattling it's contents at me. I can't hear you. La la la laaaa la. La la la laaaaaaaa la. What am I doing tomorrow? 'He wants to die in a lake at Geneva' la la la laaaaaaaaaaaaa la. 11.30. Witching hour. It is almost a fresh day. BUT YOU HAVE GOT SO FAR! You almost have Lucy! 30 minutes and the slate is wiped clean of all calorie calculations. You can eat now. NO YOU CANNNNNNNT!
Please help me find Lucy. Margot is making me sad.
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